Color of Flowers by SEMON
by Lumi75
Summary: Zhao Yun hates war for what it's done to his family, but can still find anger when it comes to Zhou Yu. Slight Zhao/Zhou. Translated from Chinese DW Fanfic: 花色


_Warning: Slight Zhao/Zhou, but nothing definite. _

_Original Source ( Chinese ) __http://semon. huming .com/ontheroad/_

_Notes: A couple of Zhao Yun's other names will be used such as "Zhao Zilong, General Zhao" &_ _Zhou Yu will also be called "Zhou Gongjin, Zhou Lang, Zhou Mo, Governor-general of Wu"_

_Thanks A Secret Masquerade for the help!_

_*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***_

**花色 || ****COLOR OF FLOWERS  
**

by SEMON

Translated by Lumi75, Beta'd by A Secret Masquerade

_*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** _

1.

He knows that even after death, voices continue to reverberate, like shade upon shade of red flowers.

Most nights at the military camp, he can hear a melody float from far away; a children's song, like the one his mother sang to him when he was a boy, but his mother is long gone; so he must have been dreaming. But this makes it a good dream, for it lets him forget that she is dead, along with many other people.

"Zilong, are you hurt? Let mother see."

He remembers her as an ordinary woman who cared deeply for her son; all her life she endured no disasters and enjoyed no riches. Her days passed placidly, even her death was mundane.

But he still thinks about her all the time, although he is no longer bullied, and is now a general. Perhaps he can't forget her eyes; the way they followed him, filled with anxiety and suffering, as if on the verge of speaking, but always held back. Those eyes watched over him as he grew up, until they finally disappeared, leaving behind these words:

"_Zilong, you must be a good man."_

Every time his spear strikes flesh, he will hear it.

The first time he killed someone, he gagged on the stench of blood. But you aren't given the luxury of throwing up in the middle of battle, you just have to get over it. Afterwards, he was even able to comfort the new recruits when they began to cry.

"General, don't you feel afraid?"

"Afraid? Of course I do."

Especially later on, I only made it through by gritting my teeth.

"General, have you ever hesitated on the battlefield?"

"Hesitated? No."

If I had time to hesitate, I would be completely annihilated.

"General, why did we have to choose this painful road?"

"Choose? I don't recall having much choice."

The world is vast and I had no place to go, so I choose the hand of the first person who reached out to me.

"Don't be afraid of pain, you can handle any pain. Just don't think about it, you'll soon get used to it."

Except you can't get used to loneliness.

A few years later he revisited his village. The autumn wind still hurtled through the hills, sweeping up heaps of flashing yellow leaves and wildflowers, cluttering his parents' grave. Only after careful cleaning could he make out the inscriptions. Getting hold of a few local people, he asked after names from his past. But they were always at a loss to reply.

After all these years of constant warfare and mass migration, everyone's gone MIA.

He remained until the first snowfall hugged the hills in white; he used to think that the snow in Changshan was warmer than anyplace else. Instead, he felt the droplets of sweat on the grip of his spear slowly cool, leaving ice on the metal.

Truly and finally, he is completely alone.

Years later, somebody asked him; "If you compare the snow of Changshan with the flowers of Jiangnan, which is more beautiful?"

He hesitated for a long time, and did not know what to say.

He never noticed flowers before Jiangnan; he doesn't like them much, especially the red ones. Be they dark red, light red or crimson red, all they do is remind him of the bloodstained clouds streaking over the battlefield at dusk. His obsession with cleanliness is well known, he always polishes his armor and spear until they sparkle like midwinter frost, over and over again, like he has a phobia.

When he was a child, he learnt to recite the classics, "The feeling of compassion, creates principle of benevolence…"As he repeated Mencius's words over and over, what he heard were his mother's exhortations, "Zilong, be good."

Cao Cao is a traitor and a criminal, Liu Bei is kind and righteous, that's what they all say. In that case, following Liu Bei should make him one of the good guys, shouldn't it? Even if he had to kill in the process, even if his enemies were sometimes a ragtag bunch of farmers and boys who charged unprepared into war, shortly to be drenched by the color of flowers.

As he snuck the little baby inside his armor and galloped madly through the enemy lines at Changban, nearly driven berserk by the howls of the fallen and screams of the baby, he repeated endlessly to himself, _this should make me one of the good guys now, a good guy._

He wondered if the same thought comforted Cao Cao's followers when they raised their swords to kill.

***

2.

***

Sometime later, their Lord persuaded the Chief Strategist to join their side.

Despite his widespread fame, the scholar known as "Sleeping Dragon" was actually very young. Standing before their Lord, eloquently explaining the secrets of the world, his eyes were exceptionally clear and bright, masking the aggressiveness of his true nature.

"Against Cao Cao?"

"Against Cao Cao."

The blood of warriors boils at the challenge of a glorious fight; the generals rampaged at his proposal, leaving the Chief Strategist smiling quietly. But hesitation ploughed deep furrows on their Lord's face. Liu Bei is not a decisive man, he has too many concerns of an ordinary person.

"An alliance with the house of Sun? Will they agree? Against Cao Cao? Wouldn't they want to surrender?"

"The house of Sun is known as the Arrogant Tiger of Jiangdong, and he has sharp fangs."

"Zhou Yu?"

"Zhou Yu."

Chibi burned all night; the view from their side of the river was too spectacular for words.

He's seen azaleas in spring, they grow abundantly on the riverbank of his village. When they burst open all in one piece, blazing in the sunset, their passionate heat is just as devastating. He was still a boy at that time, he liked to sit on his father's shoulders and hear his war stories. Father was a seasoned warrior, broad-minded and powerful with a full bellied laugh. But at the sight of the azaleas in full splendor, he fell strangely silent. Pausing for a long time, he said. "These flowers look almost demonic, like flames."

Soon afterwards, father died on the battlefield.

Most of his memories have melted into dim grey, if not for the night of fire reflected across the river at Chibi, his vision of red might well have been buried forever.

He does not personally know Zhou Lang of Sun family, although he's heard much of his brilliant achievements; as the prodigy of Jiangdong, a youthful hero and gallant scholar. But just what kind of person is he who dares to use such savage flames as a sacrificial rite to commemorate the birth of a new kingdom?

"Chief Strategist, what kind of person is Zhou Yu, really?"

Zhuge Kongming thought for a good while before answering.

"A very dangerous person."

"Dangerous?"

"He carries the scent of blood, our Sun-Wu alliance might work well for now, but never for the long term, because Zhou Yu is a man who desires to conquer the world."

Zhao Yun said nothing, his eyes followed the Chief Strategist. "Well, how about our lord? Doesn't he want to conquer the world?"

"Our lord does it for the good of the common people." Chief Strategist observed him calmly, but his tone deepened, "You ought to know the difference, Zilong."

He dropped his gaze and nodded.

"I do."

When the Chief Strategist first arrived, anxious soldiers often approached him:

"General Zhao, do you understand the Chief Strategist?"

Smiling, he always replied, "No."

The soldiers looked disappointed. "But General, you're so smart."

Everyone viewed the Chief Strategist with expectations of epic proportions, but to be honest, he doesn't truly understand the man, just like he doesn't truly understand his Lord. Each time Zhang Fei stumbles towards him bearing a huge earthen pot of booze, shouting "Big Brother can be such a goddamned pussy!";his lord will shake his head disapprovingly, "Third Brother, don't go chewing Zilong's ears off with your complaints every time you get drunk, you're making it awkward for him!" Meanwhile Guan Yu would spare them a glance and chuckle, before returning his attention to the play on stage; all he can do is grin and shrug.

He always finds it difficult to express himself, he doesn't think he's very intelligent at all, maybe a little more intuitive than usual, but this isn't always a good thing. Virtually all clever thoughts are sudden sparks that jump into his mind at unpredictable moments, it comes and goes and when it's gone he pays it no heed.

"Zilong is a real gentleman, he has no greed."

His Lord praises him admiringly, his smile makes deep shadows dance across the valleys of his face.

And he still doesn't know what to say. Except to smile back graciously, ever mindful of his manners.

By now, he has already left his village for years, he can barely remember anything anymore, except for those red azaleas and their scent, so beautiful it hurts.

***

3.

***

The marriage alliance with Wu was held in spring. When he arrives at Jiangnan it's raining. Jade green shoots cover the mountains and forests, raindrops spill over leaves and dangle over their tips like forlorn children, the endless drizzle clings to you like a young girl in love, nuzzling your arm and stubbornly refusing to let go.

Humidity; anxiety; the beautiful bride from the Sun family…and Zhou Gongjin.

He's seen Zhou Yu before, that night at Chibi, a distant figure with a fluttering red cloak beneath billowing military banners, behind him were towering flames, creating a silhouette so hot it seared. But when he met with Zhou Yu the second time, he's shocked at how the red had faded away, without a single trace.

The man standing beside Sun Quan was plainly dressed, his pose was dignified as befitting his high status, but his tone was not arrogant and his greeting to his lord appeared sincere. As soon as he saw him, the man walked up, face cool and delicate, a smile lingering on his lips.

"General Zhao, who single-handedly rescued his infant lord at Changban?"

He simply nodded. "This man is he."

"It was a shame that Zhuge Xiansheng was fetched away by General Zhao shortly after the Battle of Chibi. Zhou Mo has always regretted having no chance to show proper hospitality."

His jaw dropped, so the Chief Strategist's concern over Zhou Lang was mutual. He pinned his eyes on the other, wondering what to say. At that point he realized that the Governor-general of Wu possessed a pair of unusually beautiful eyes, they were pitch black, and sparkled with a gentle light, like the rain of Jiangnan.

"General Zhao, I've heard much about you, but nothing compares to the real thing."

The voice that traveled to his ears was crisp and mild, but as soon as he finished speaking, his gaze turned to ice. Petals pelted upon him like drops of blood, heat rushed up, he was about to react, before discovering they were merely raindrops, and no flowers were in sight. The man in front of him crooked a crow-black eyebrow, curling his lips in a faint smile. There was no trace of murderous intent either. His instincts rang false.

"Nothing like the real thing."

***

"Zilong, do you think this is good?"

Liu Bei sat in the courtyard, staring at the lotus blossoms rising from the pond. He was newly married and celebrations were held every day in his honor. Time passed sweetly and securely. No war, no fighting, no hate, no pain, who wouldn't wish for such happiness to last forever? His Lord must have felt conflicted, or he would not have said to him again and again, "Zilong, do you think this is good?"

He doesn't know the answer; he's never been the one to make decisions.

So he says, "If my lord thinks it is fine, then I am fine also."

Liu Bei stared at his face for a long time, broke into a pained smile, "Ah! I've forgotten to write to the Chief Strategist for one whole month."

Outside the courtyard, a couple of his men were chatting up the serving maids, life in the army camps had wearied them, but the delightful ladies of Jiangnan made them feel young again. Men gathered in groups and sauntered down the streets, eagerly exploring the exotic scenery of Wu. It is springtime, the season of lengthening grass and flying orioles, does being alive get any more pleasant than this?

Sun-Liu have united, bonded by a marriage alliance like the historical houses of Qin-Jin. It's not their fault if everyone assumes peace has finally arrived.

He walked past several soldiers dozing at their post; their spears were tarnished from disuse. Outside the gates, the sunshine was mesmerizing, green leaves whirled like the sea, and he felt weary to the bone, probably from aimlessness.

When he returned to the courtyard, he spotted his Lord laughing and chatting with Sun Quan, the Governor-general was standing beside him as usual, followed by a troop of guards with serious faces. Their spears were polished gleaming silver, and reflected the lovely sunshine with a chilling glare.

"General Zhao, I trust that you've been well?"

Laughing heartily, Zhou Yu made a special trip over to see him. But he did not answer. Silently, their eyes locked as if just before a duel. He searched the coal black eyes of the other, but all he could see is the man's bold and mocking gaze, which forces you at a distance, never will you be allowed to read any deeper. At the moment he hesitated, he realized that he had already lost; he dropped his eyes.

"Some have said, Governor-general's aura can awaken bloodlust on contact."

"Do you believe this?"

"Did not believe it. Before I met you."

***

4

***

*** *** ***

When he was a boy, his mother often told him stories about his father. Since he died while Zilong was still young, his own memories of the man were blurry, and he relied upon her stories to piece together a mental image. Every time Mother mentioned his father, a faraway look would float across her face, soft, like dew shimmering atop the heart of flowers.

Father was a warrior, his whole life was spent traversing from one battlefield to the next, never was the day that he cease to make his wife worry, although she always spoke of him with the greatest indulgence, "Oh, that man…" Not that she never complained, he virtually abandoned his family as soon as their child was born. Left to fend for themselves, the pair suffered much at the hands of bullies.

Each time he was beaten up, mother would comfort him, saying, "Zilong, let Mother see, Mother will put some medicine on it so it doesn't hurt." Naturally, with the arrogance of youth, his first instinct was to grab a pole and retaliate, but his mother hugged him tightly and said, "Stop! Zilong, don't fight! You have to be safe." Mother's eyes were so panic-stricken and helpless, that he had no choice but to drop his plans for vengeance. He didn't care for fighting or warfare anyhow, all he wanted is to do is spend his life safely with his mother, in this crazy age.

*** *** ***

Blue Blade. Three feet long.

He has never used this legendary sword on the battlefield, it carries an overpowering scent of blood and it frightens him, although he is not clear what he fears.

For the past few weeks, Sun Quan has come up with a multitude of events to keep his Lord entertained, they have held celebrations of song and dance, hunted for wild game; you name it they've done it. Seeing his Lord was about to run out of ideas, Zhou Yu proposed a sparring match; the last man standing is the winner.

One man from each side was sent onstage. In the flowery courtyard, the participants only fought half-heartedly, but their Lords appeared highly amused. Personally, he didn't enjoy the show at all, but silently seized up his Lord's position. He could not afford to get caught off guard by the people of Wu. Suddenly someone sat down beside him, it was Zhou Yu.

"General Zhao, aren't you tempted to test your abilities?"

"Zhao Yun has been entrusted with responsibilities, and not in the mood for distractions."

Noting the underlying implication, Zhou Yu did not appear offended. Still smiling, he asked, "General Zhao has no trust in our security?"

"Of course not, Governer-general is being too serious."

"Oh, it appears that Zhou Mo has been too petty."

"……No, it is Zhao Yun who has been presumptuous, begging the Governor-general's pardon."

The atmosphere of intrigue was making him awkward, and fortunately Zhou Yu did not pursue the topic, returning his attention towards the sparring soldiers. The Governor-general was dressed in a finely tailored robe of plain silk, he glistened sleekly from the tips of his long hair to the top of his crown. The angle of sunlight blurred the edges of his profile, casting a soft flowing shadow upon the sleeves of the man beside him. He glanced at the mark, it took on the fiery shape of azaleas at dusk. Only when Zhou Yu turned his head to look at him, did he realize he was in a trance. The other man smiled, lips half-seeped through by the glowing background.

"Wu lacks talented men such as yourself, General."

The extraordinarily frank compliment stunned him, but only for a moment.

"If General Zhao is willing…"

"Zhao Yun is extremely flattered, but please say no more, Governer-general."

Zhou Yu's pupils glittered, but shortly subsided.

"A pity."

An awkward silence. Conflicting thoughts clashed within his head, heaving and sinking, he could not catch hold of a single thread, an indefinable feeling swelled up behind clamped lips, he was taking a gamble, he knew it, but he couldn't help it. As soon as he opened his mouth the words came gushing out.

"My Lord has a good heart, my Lady is clever and virtuous, the Sun-Liu marriage alliance strengthens us to fight against Cao Cao. May Governor-general continue to help us."

"Such words you say, Zhou Mo has long yearned for a marriage alliance, why would I do anything to spoil it?"

"Zhao Yun wouldn't dare; Governor-general is a man of vast talent and broad plans, he keeps his counsel well; I only hope Governor-general will consider the good of the common people."

As if he just heard something hilarious, Zhou Yu burst into laughter.

"I've long heard that General Zhao is gentleman, and this meeting proves that the rumors are entirely true."

He held Zhou Yu's gaze, until the man looked away and sighed. "Is General Zhao after some kind of promise from my lips? General is a gentleman, with a gentleman's heart, but General is also his Lord's official. How an official ought to serve his Lord, surely General already understands?"

Once again, he stumbled from his train of thought, before he managed to recover, Zhou Yu pressed on. "On the other hand… …"

"Even if Zhou Yu is willing, will your lord be willing?"

The man's eyes were very sharp, they pierced straight into his heart. Alarmed, he regretted even starting this conversation, he should have known his words would come out sounding utterly naïve, but nevertheless, he believed he had a point.

"To have two kingdoms on friendly ties, is beneficial to Wu, and beneficial to the entire world. Is the Governor-general willing to sacrifice the good of the people, and plunge them into era of flood and fire?"

"Such words go too far, General, Zhou Mo may not be known as a compassionate man, but neither is he like that."

Zhou Yu had so effortlessly brushed aside his doubts, and refuted his deepest concerns with noncommittal replies. He could not calm down, with a crack, his patience broke, white-heat bubbled at his brain, his forehead hurt, feverish. Impulsively he leaned close to Zhou Yu and whispered.

"So then at the Battle of Chibi, how many men did Governor-general kill?"

The sound of Zhou Yu's laughter rang out together with the crash of a falling body. Wu had already won three consecutive matches.

"May this man be as bold as to request the next fight, General Zhao?"

Standing in the centre of stage, the Wu warrior had a childlike face and serious attitude; he did not seem like one of the ordinary soldiers.

His subordinates roared in protest, a few younger ones angrily ran forwards. He waved to stop them, then turned to see his Lord's expression, which seemed to say "it's up to you." Meanwhile, Zhou Yu was leisurely lifting a cup of wine to his lips. He considered the invitation a little more, stood up, only to hear Zhou Yu's voice from behind.

"General Zhao, who exactly are you trying to comfort with reasons like that?"

The man's voice was full of contempt and pity. At that moment, there was no way he could turn and look him in the eye.

Facing the Wu warrior, he realized he hadn't brought his spear with him. But his opponent quickly said, "General Zhao, please use Blue Blade this one time." So he had to pull it.

Blue Blade's finely honed edge reflected dazzling light, a buzz of admiration rose through the audience, and the Wu warrior charged at him, brandishing his sword.

A formidable fighter, but not much more than that. Perhaps he will be stronger the future, but right now, he was still too much of a child. After several attacks, he clearly gained the upper hand, causing both parties beneath the stage to shout or curse in tumultuous waves, while their Lords kept their eyes peeled on their every move. So many lines of sight were trained upon their duel; he figured one of the eyes must also belong to Zhou Yu, those sneering eyes that presumed to see through him. But when he sneaked a look, he discovered that Zhou Lang hadn't bothered to watch them at all, the man was deep in conversation with Lu Su, laughing and smiling, as if he might as well not exist.

He felt upset for no reason.

He wanted to end the fighting quickly, but the Wu warrior continued to attack aggressively, he delivered a few warning blows, but the other showed no sign of submission. Such tenacity was astonishing, as if they weren't merely engaged in a demonstration match for entertainment purposes.

Two swords entwined in the air, their edges ground out hot sparks, the young warrior's eyes sparkled, and he bared his teeth with undisguised pride.

"General Zhao, don't look down on me!"

His heart gave a thump, Blue Blade almost slipped from his grip.

*** *** ***

It happened so long ago, and he's forgotten so much since then, but he can clearly remember the time when the village kids used to pick on him. Obedient to his mother's wishes, he endured without a sound, until even the bully himself, frustrated by his unresponsive attitude, screamed out– 'Coward!'

You can beat up a boy, but don't insult him, children will cling more fiercely to pride than a full grown man. He roars:

"Don't look down on me!"

The bullies collapse into a heap of laughter, "Your father was a defeated soldier and his son is a loser!"

For the first time in his life, he brawls; he beats up several of them; but his body takes the brunt of the damage. Falling to the ground with horribly swollen wounds, he looks up and sees his mother, who has been rushed over by the villagers. She gazes at him sorrowfully, tears filling her eyes.

"Mother," he harshly manages. "Father was a hero, wasn't he?"

*** *** ***

"Clang – "

With unstoppable momentum Blue Blade slashes apart the other sword, stunning the Wu warrior but not for long, he throws away the broken remnant and attacks with bare fists. Single-handedly catching the youth's fist, he trips him over a foot and throws him onto the floor. He squirms furiously, agitating him more and more. You still want to resist? So he raises his blade and smashes it down-

"Stop!"

It seemed some people had shouted, the next instant, Blue Blade stood embedded in the floorboards, flashing inches beside the ear of the Wu warrior.

Needless to say, the outcome was decisive.

The air was frozen solid, not a single sound was heard. His chest heaved with rasping breaths; his hands glistened with sweat, and a trickle snaked down the razor's edge of Blue Blade.

A single shout of approval rang out for him, and clapped. It was his lord, beaming at him, the crowd soon followed, shouting their admiration.

He pulled the other to his feet, quieted his breathing, and bowed courteously. "Zhao Yun has been rude."

The young warrior gnashed his teeth, still rebelling against his defeat, but soon behaved himself and returned the bow.

"Lu Xun thanks General for his guidance."

As soon as he walked back to his seat, Zhou Yu picked up a cup of wine and held it towards him. "General Zhao's skills are indeed impressive, Boyan is beneath you, and not just because of Blue Blade. He's lucky to have kept his neck. Zhou Mo thanks General for your mercy."

Taking hold of the cup, he lightly replied. "Zhao Yun has no intention of hurting anyone."

To his surprise, Zhou Yu grinned. Clamping a palm on his forearm still stretched out for the drink, he pulled himself very close. So closely Zhao Yun feels his breath against his earlobe. His voice is warm and sweet, each syllable melts distinctly into the soft air.

"And at the Battle of Changban, how many men did you kill, my General?"

***

5.

***  
*** *** ***

On the day he started learning martial arts, his mother did not stop him, only fell uncharacteristically silent. Since then, a new expression crept into her face. Sad, worried, like a woman with much to say, but unable to speak any of it. Plus, she stopped telling him stories about his father and he stopped asking.

Later, when his Shifu asked about his father, he only he said he was too young to remember anything. Sensing something, Shifu scrutinized him, then just shrugged.

Shifu was already an elderly man, but his skills remained as good as ever, especially with the spear, he wielded it so effortlessly it was wonderful. Some villagers told him that Shifu used to be a General, but his side lost, and their Lord was killed. Thus Shifu ended up migrating to their village and there he has stayed ever since.

"Do you like the battlefield?" He asks Shifu.

It is late afternoon, Shifu is working in the fields, the setting sun sprinkles upon his rickety back, looking closer you see his skin is covered with scars. Hearing his voice, the old man pauses in his manual labor and slowly turns to look at him.

"Sure I do. You?"

"Hate it."

"Why?"

"I hate to kill."

"Then why did you seek me out to learn the spear?"

"I only want to keep fit"

"What good is a spear that does not kill?"

Shocked, he shivers, makes no answer before blurting out his next question, "So how come you don't fight anymore?"

The old man chuckles.

"Because I couldn't find a good enough reason to carry on."

*** *** ***

Don't assume that he's never thought about it, to live an ordinary life. To find a place at the foot of the mountain where the stream flows by and build several small houses with a courtyard, with a wife not necessarily very beautiful but very gentle, and have several lovely children, to rise before dawn, and return at dusk. His home will always be lively and bustling, the mother does needlework beside the stove, the father entertains his grandchildren with funny stories, when he returns home and steps through the door, his wife will give him a soothing smile, and say to him, "You've been working hard."

Only when he wakes up does he realize he has been dreaming again, always the same dream, although this was rare since his mother died. The details are a blur, except for a pair of eyes, elegant but cold, and sharp enough to pierce through all his defenses.

He knows his mother yearned for such a life, as serene as snow; he also knows that father never gave her such a life. Replaying his pitifully few fragments of memory, he remembers those big hands holding his tiny body high in the air: "My son will be a big hero!"

Pushing open the door to the study, he heard the wind rustle between the thick stacks of inscribed bamboo slips. His Lord was reading a letter from the Chief Strategist, from time to time he would stop to ask him what he thought. He answered in an orderly manner and offered some suggestions. After the discussion on military affairs, his lord opened the window, in the yard grew many Katsura trees that were in full flower at that time, sending their caramel scent into every the nook and cranny of each room. In the courtyard some children ran around teasing each other, their screams and general tomfoolery occasionally invaded the room.

"Zilong, isn't Wu a good place? The people are wealthy, there is no war. To be able to settle down in such a place would be happiness indeed, isn't that so?"

He nodded slightly.

"I too would like to live in such a place... But I also want such a country. Zilong, do you understand?"

Something unusual was shining from Liu Bei's eyes, an intense and passionate emotion. He rose to his feet and faced his lord.

"I would like to become a hero, I would like to restore the Han Dynasty, I would like to have everywhere just like this place, I want to rule the world, is this notion much too magnificent for me?"

He looks at his lord, a long silence with no words, perhaps only now has he seen the true face of Liu Xuande. Between the dream to possess an ordinary life or to become a hero, he does not know which dream is too magnificent for him.

"I was this close to- this close to just giving up all my dreams, to settle down here and lead a secure life, to never worry about fighting again, and let down all the people who have followed me. How could I have been such a good-for-nothing?"

His lord's expression transformed his face into gorgeous light and shadow, and then slowly reformed with firm clarity. His Lord's eyes were pure and calm, as if he had never been tempted by the lure of security.

"Zilong, I'm ashamed you had to protect such a useless person, it was very unfair to you."

Seemingly out of his own volition, he fell to his knees, his voice slowly rising until he shouted: "Zhao Yun will always follow my Lord!"

Recovering from his high, Liu Bei raised him by his shoulders, and chuckled.

"Zilong, you're indeed one of a kind. I am surrounded by many people, all of whom are after something; they all fight in order to fulfill their desires. Only you, you seem to desire nothing."

***

6.

***

Another grand banquet, this time at the mansion of the Governor-general of Wu.

He watched his Lord mixing comfortably with the boisterous crowd, aware that underneath the happy chatter flowed turbulent undercurrents. The Lord's bride was smiling graciously, her eyes looked beautiful, full of tenderness and sweetness, although he wondered how much of it was really genuine.

As the gathering warmed up, the guests began offering toasts. He held toast after toast for his Lord. Actually, Liu Bei was a good drinker, and had no need for him to do so. As if sensing something, Liu Bei let him do it, only stopping him just before he reached his limit, "Zilong, go take a walk."

The Chinese corridor was endlessly winding, red lanterns hung low, the moon was dark.

For a Governor-general mansion of this size, there were surprisingly few guards, even servants were scarce. He strolled aimlessly. At the end of one corridor, framed by the procession of pillars, stood the man who should have been the main host of the banquet, the Governor-general of Wu, leaning against the railings polishing his sword.

Perhaps because he was too engrossed in his task, the man did not notice his arrival. As he studiously wiped the blade, the Governor-general's expression was very gentle, as if he held in his hands not a murder weapon but the most beautiful woman on earth. The candlelight flickering within the lanterns enveloped him in a red haze, so that he looked soft and distant, otherworldly, like that night of fire at Red Cliff.

Heat flared within his chest, perhaps the side effect of too much booze, but it was undeniable. He approached, lightheaded and flatfooted, and Zhou Yu finally noticed him. He didn't react much, simply breaking into a welcoming smile.

"General Zhao is in good spirits, taking a walk?"

Strange that he didn't think before he spoke, "May I borrow Governor-general's sword for a closer look?"

Zhou Yu looked at him for a moment, then handed him the sword, his smile did not waver.

"Why not?"

The hilt was extremely old and crude with no ornate decoration, the sword gave no appearance of being particularly valuable. But as everyone knows, there is a legendary sword in the possession of the Sun family of Jiangdong named "Ancient Tablet." If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill the Buddha; this must be it.

Sun Jian, Sun Ce, and the present owner Zhou Yu, have stained this blade with indescribable bloodshed. With every movement of its elegant edge, it has silenced the wails of the living and unceasingly demands fresh blood to quench its thirst.

At a moment like this, he should be able to effortlessly take the head of the Governor-general of Wu.

Was he insane? His fists quickly became clammy with sweat. If you kill Zhou Yu, the greatest threat posed by Wu to your Lord will be eradicated. Yet almost in the same instant, he abolished the desperate idea. If you kill the Governor-general of Wu within his own mansion, you will sow seeds of a greater scourge.

It appears that I've had too much to drink.

Taking a deep breath, he handed the sword back to Zhou Yu, and struggled to speak calmly.

"Governor-general, do not hand over your sword casually, it is very dangerous."

Zhou Yu did not reach for it, but instead locked his eyes on him, his expression remained neutral, smile deepened mockingly.

"Zhou Mo is very interested to know, was General Zhao thinking what I was thinking?"

A chill crept up his spine, but Zhou Yu did not continue, only took back the sword and continued wiping it, focused on his job as if he did not exist.

Clouds weighed down the night sky, it looked about to rain, leaves blown by the wind scattered down with a soft susurrus, the air began to chill, the moon was hidden behind the clouds, appearing and disappearing. This moment is so eerie, like the mood in his recurring dream. Wherever he turns he sees only wasteland, the sky is dark, he cannot see what is in front, behind him a trail of footprints. A dead echo asks him over and over;

"Why should you keep going?"

"Wish I knew, but I've already forgotten."

The path he walks is like a voyage without destination, he takes any road that appears, he has no aim, he slowly becomes empty.

He cannot remember exactly when he started to envy people like Zhou Lang of Wu. He is jealous of his intense vitality, his aura of bloodlust so strong that his very breath heats up the air, no one dares to go near him, afraid that a single touch will send you to flames.

"Governor-general, do you want a world of your own?"

Zhou Yu started, somewhat confused by his question, then coldly stated, "Zhou Mo wants a world ruled by the house of Sun. General thinks too much, I daresay."

The tone was meant to be sharp, the Governor-general of Wu must have been the target of much gossip during the day to day administration of the court. Nevertheless, the man in front of him had no trouble asserting that he does want the world, although not for himself.

"For the sake of someone else's world, Governor-general, don't you feel tired?"

His tone was demanding, refusing to let the other reject or escape before giving him the much-needed conclusion. As if offended, Zhou Yu frowned slightly. Making no reply, he straightened his robe and prepared to leave. He stepped up and blocked the way; he knew he was being rude, but it was impossible for him to contain the fire that spread from his chest to his throat, seeking expression. Zhou Yu did not move, he only stared back with knitted brows. Lantern light glitters atop his pitch black iris, flickering, and he remembers those flowers, as real as if they suddenly blossomed in front of him, the riot of fiery red azaleas, like the flame that has lured countless moths to their doom.

He stretches his hand out to touch the brightly colored flowers, I would like to know exactly how warm they feel, will it be as burning hot as those wet drops that once fell from mother's eyes?

*** *** ***

That day, he decided to join the army of Gongsun Zan. Mother began murmuring to herself, "Zilong, why are you so much like your father?" He tried desperately to comfort her, "Mother, I just want to put an end to these troubled times, I want everyone to be able to live in peace."

She slumped in despair, her face mournful, "Don't you deceive me, Zilong! You're just like your father, you want to become a hero, you lust for the battlefield, just like a….just like a..." She began to weep, in the silence that followed, he felt wet drops land on his neck and shoulders, so searing hot they left behind empty holes.

Later, his mother got sick, she overworked her body, but perhaps even more overworked was her heart. He wasn't with her when she died, they told him that she had departed peacefully, more or less painlessly. Common to all those who work laboriously, her body grew drier and skinnier, she slowly withered, her face turned pale and colorless. After he rushed home from the battlefield, the villagers told him her final message —

_Zilong, you must be a good man. _

The spear in his hands felt too heavy to grip, the metal was chipped and scarred by years of butchery, he wanted to fling it away, but he could never wash away the stain on his body overflowing with the color of flowers.

What good is a spear that does not kill?

He can suppress his desire, but cannot resist his instinct. His thirsts for battle, craves the moment his spirit is set ablaze, although it isn't something absolutely essential, but it remains his deepest temptation - the same as love.

So he must always think of his mother, in his heart, this is a must. He has to keep reminding himself; he will not go mad from bloodlust, he will not become like his father, he will not make his mother's face look like that.

Inside him is a sunless wasteland; he wishes to see green grass sprout from it, like Changsan he saw when he was very small, he wishes for brilliant white snow-capped mountains, and the splendid scent of red flowers. But he has buried these wishes in a decade of mourning, and finally forgotten.

*** *** ***

When he was taken into his arms, the Governor-general of Wu subconsciously moved to push aside his hands, but he only hugged him tighter. Lanterns swayed in the in the wind, their shadows were twisted into disturbing shapes.

"To become a hero, doesn't that make you tired?"

He has finally said it, those words that he can never say to anyone. Even after avoiding it for so many years, almost to the point of amnesia, he still has to face up to it at last. Zhou Yu's body stiffened in his arms, he was jolted halfway sober, but before he had time for regretting, he heard the voice of the Governor-general of Wu come from beside his ear.

"General Zhao, you've had too much to drink."

The man's voice was gentle and quiet, at the next moment, he met up with Zhou Yu's eyes. There was no sarcasm or contempt; his eyes were as clear as well water, and faintly smiling.

In a past life, he would have sworn that Zhou Yu's body was engulfed by a heavy perfume, the rising stench of battlefields, towering smoke of Chibi. Isn't this the inevitable scent of heroes, bloodstained like the color of flowers?

Yet, this isn't so, if anything he feels deeply familiar, like pieces of long ago, like faint shadows cast by snow upon snow, pristine white, and warm.

"General Zhao, perhaps you should return to your room and rest, the night is getting late."

Still smiling, Zhou Yu stepped back and pulled away his embrace, but he raises his hand and catches it once more. He feels warmth seep past the thin cloth into his palms, all this is real, even if the hazy moonlight made the outline of the Governor-general glow like an illusion, his warmth is real.

"General Zhao?"

He has survived the freezing chill of killing fields, each battle as devastatingly long as a blizzard through which he is reborn over and over….But now, all he wants to do is to hold on to this lingering warmth, and never let go.

***

***

_Never gambled, never rude, never drunk, never desperate._

_Hesitated for nothing, did not desire anything._

_Before I met you._

_***_

_***  
_

|| END ||

BY SEMON 2004-2-4


End file.
